2026

A new morning comes
and you realize
you’ve run out of milk.

So you rush to the corner shop,
half-awake, half-there,
and while you’re standing in line
you open your phone.

Terror. Noise.
A broken world in your hand.
Chaos spilling across the screen.

And for a moment
you forget
how to breathe.

“Cash or card?”
the cashier asks.

“Card,” you say,
with a tired smile,
as if nothing is breaking,
as if everything is fine.

You go home,
make coffee,
watch it settle,

and carry on with your day
with that feeling still there
something heavy
something you can’t name
like a stone in your stomach
like weather that will not pass.

At work
you contribute to things
nobody really needs

Meetings, agenda points
None of it matters
and you feel it building up inside you —
that urge to get up and shout:

What on earth are we doing?
Doesn’t anyone else feel it—
this fracture in the air?

But you don’t say it.

So no one answers.

You talk to people
friends, colleagues, strangers in a pub.
You try to engage.
You really do.

But your mind drifts.
There’s a lump in your throat,
a weight settling on your shoulders.

Something in you recoils,
hardens.
And you hate yourself
for the thought that follows…

That their problems
aren’t real problems.

So you say something kind
turn the conversation
toward lighter things.

You laugh about something small,
something easy
but it feels off -
the sound of your laughter feels brittle,
like glass
that could shatter in your mouth.

Later, at home,
you scroll. Endlessly.
Headlines, outrage glaring at you.

You feel that hollowness creeping up on you.

In the dark,
before sleep finds you,
you ask yourself:
when was the last time
I actually felt okay?

—

But maybe being OK
is no longer a bright thing
no longer loud.
Maybe now
it’s quieter than that.

Maybe it’s just this—
staying
not turning away
reaching out, caring
even when you feel helpless.

Maybe it’s in small things
a conversation that’s real
a moment of honesty
someone choosing to listen.

A smile that reminds you
that none of this
is meant to be carried alone
that we belong to one another
even now.

And so tomorrow
when morning comes again
the weight on your shoulders
the confusion
the stone in your stomach
will still be there.

But so will other people.

And somehow,
that matters.

You don’t have to
carry it all
alone.